


By My Side till My Blood Runs Dry

by RaphaelSantiago (softsocky)



Category: Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare, Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Contains swearing - Freeform, Fluff, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Romance, other gross shit, short and sweet, this is literally about a car called simone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-10
Updated: 2016-04-10
Packaged: 2018-06-01 05:01:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6501733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softsocky/pseuds/RaphaelSantiago
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Raphael buys a car. He takes his baby for a drive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	By My Side till My Blood Runs Dry

**Author's Note:**

> I keep forgetting to say where what song I get my titles from. I have my own Saphael playlist that I may publish one day, but I listen to it whenever I write, and this time I was actually inspired by the song for this fan fiction, not the other way round,
> 
> Drive by Glades. LISTEN TO IT while yu read, so good, love the song. 
> 
>  
> 
> Also i wanna point out i imagined them looking how they do in the tv show, because david castro using a gear stick makes me feel like a reborn baby k bye hope u like it

“This is some sleeping beauty shit right here,” is what Simon says when Raphael wakes him with a kiss. He hears Raphael sighs heavily, and when Simon opens his eyes, its because he wanted to see how soft his boyfriend’s eyes were looking down at him. Raphael was shirtless, the white bed sheet low around his hips, propped up on his elbows as he watched Simon pull himself out of his sleeping state.

 Simon kisses the corner of his mouth, aware of his morning breath, and presses another under his ear. “And you say you’re not a romantic, santy.”

 Raphael contorts his face into a look of sarcastic discomfort, “Louie, I told you not to call me that.” Before Simon could retort, however, Raphael was already kissing him, lips as gentle as his eyes. 

This was Simon’s favourite Raphael – naked, yes, obviously – but more so because he was well fed, his hair was messy, his eyes delicate, and hands warm. Those hands rubbed down Simon’s stomach now, before twisting down around his back, heaving him upwards. Raphael laid on his back now, Simon lying between his legs, head flat against the scar of his crucifix. This was Simon’s favourite Raphael; this was the Raphael that Simon knew and loved and gotten to know in the past five years. This was the only Raphael he ever wanted to love.

Raphael’s eyes weren’t as soft now – rather, they were darkening with a look Simon knew too well. “Again, Raph, really?”

His boyfriend just smiled, dragging Simon up his body so their lips could meet. Surrendering, Simon groaned, and pulled the sheets up over their bodies.

 

Afterwards, Raphael drew random patterns across his back, wishing he could leave marks that wouldn’t heal. Simon kissed the top of his head, half asleep. Raphael covered Simon’s body with his own when there was a knock on the door. Although everyone was aware of their relationship – you had to literally be deaf not to hear about it, especially with how loud Simon got – he was still cautious about who saw his boy naked. Simon appreciated this, too, and he tucked his head into Raphael’s neck in order to hide to non-existence blush.

“Come in,” Raphael said huskily, sending a brief shiver throughout Simon’s body. Lily enters, looking softly between them, but still seemed to be somewhat apologetic for disturbing them. Raphael kissed Simon’s hair when he noticed Lily’s affection, a habit of possession. 

“I’m sorry to bother you two, but Raphael, there’s a package waiting for you.”

 Raphael cocks his head to the side, “bring it in then.”

 Lily hesitates, “Um, it wont fit. As in, it won’t fit through the front of the hotel either.”

 Suddenly, Raphael sits up, dragging Simon with him and ignoring his yelp. Lily tries not to gag when Raphael jumps out of bed, also ignoring his nakedness, before pressing two kisses to Lily’s cheeks. He makes a dash to the door before Simon screeches out, “Raphael!”

 Raphael, on instinct, stops, frantically scanning Simon’s body. Lily looks like a statue, frozen in time and space, the same disgusted expression on her face. Simon realises she’s trying very hard not to look down at Raphael’s nude figure. Simon, thankfully, doesn’t have to look away – he can stare all he wants, but that doesn’t mean he wants other people looking.

 “Babe, as much as I love seeing your sweaty, nude body… I don’t really want anyone else seeing it.”

 “Yes!” Lily blurts out, eyes still trained on the back wall. “I also think pants are a good idea.” Raphael looks down at his body, realisation hitting him, before he chuckles, heading to his wardrobe, and Lily making a beeline for the door.

 

 Simon quickly dresses with him, but Raphael won’t tell him what the package is. Whatever it is, Simon thinks, it must be bloody good. He’s never seen Raphael get this excited so quickly. Except for that one time when he—

 “Simon, I want to introduce you to Simone.” Raphael opened the front door of the hotel, stepping aside for Simon to see.

 In front of him, outside the hotel, was a red vintage sports car.

“Um,” Simon mumbled. He looked at Raphael, who was grinning at him, eyes flickering between the car and his partner. Simon smirked before asking, “did you name your car after me?”

 Raphael scoffed, “sure sunshine, I’d name this beautiful piece of machinery after someone as uncoordinated as you!” He rolled his eyes for emphasis.

 Simon stepped forward then, hands sliding up Raphael’s bare arms to the edges of his t-shirt, bit his lip before speaking, “y’know, I don’t know what you thought, I could totally be wrong, but I thought I was pretty coordinated a few hours ago in bed? You know what I mean don’t you?” Raphael eyed him curiously, a smile tugging at the corners of his swollen, pink lips. “When I did that thing with my fingers—”

 “OKAY, okay,” Raphael interjected, shaking his head and muttering in Spanish under his breath.

 “Don’t _idiota_ me Santiago, because I want to know who Simone is then if you didn’t name it after me?” Staring deep into his eyes, they held contact, no smiles on their faces. Raphael, surprisingly, broke it first – leaning down to kiss Simon’s lips.

 Simon smiled into the kiss, hands tugging in Raphael’s hair, messing it up more than it already was. He loved the texture of it under his hands – soft but still rough from day-old hair gel, parting easily between his fingers. Simon pulled away at the Raphael’s groan when he tugged on it. “Can I drive it?” He whispered against his lips, before pulling away completely.

 Raphael dragged him back in, lips at the base of Simon’s throat, “absolutely fucking not.” He sucked a bruise into the skin, watched it fade. “Didn’t buy a car just to watch it get destroyed.” Simon snorts into his hair, hands slipping up the back of his shirt.

 “But,” Raphael started. “I’ll take you for a drive?” He said it like a question, as if Simon were to ever say not to him. Nodding, and kissing his cheek, Simon ran back inside, Raphael chasing after him.

 

Simon insisted on packing a day – _night_ – of it, packing blood bags as well as a blankets. Raphael rolled his eyes at him – not an uncommon act of his, truthfully, Simon was used to it by now – but allowed him to load his new ( _“It’s older than you, Raphael, and you’re like, old as fuck.”_ “ _You_ bitch, _I’m only in my sixties!”_ “ _Gross, can you still even get it up old man?” “Oh, you want to start that now? Funny, you weren’t saying that shit this morning when I fucked you into the mattress now, were you?”)_ car with date items that Raphael didn’t realise Simon even owned.

Simon didn’t even know that Raphael had a licence, and maybe he didn’t, it’s not like Raphael really followed the rules anyway. Simon actually just hoped to himself that he knew how to drive, because Simon knew, and he was not wiling to get mangled in a car accident tonight – maybe another time, but right now he was wearing his favourite pair of jeans (they were actually Raphael’s) and didn’t want them ruined.

 Simon got into the passenger seat when Raphael unlocked it, jumping up and down in his seat. Raphael slid into the car sexily, and before he started the engine, leant over the gear stick to kiss Simon’s cheek, his jawline, his throat. “I love you, honey-bun.” He pulled away with a smirk, “seatbelt please.” Simon flipped him off, but obeyed his orders.

 Raphael started the engine as he put his own seatbelt on, and Simon held an unnecessary breath as he began to drive.

He was actually a very good driver, Simon found – and he looked _fucking sexy_ doing so. One elbow propped up on the window frame, hand controlling the wheel, while his other hand sat high up on Simon’s thigh. Simon felt like a rebellious teenager, the radio turned up high on one of Raphael’s mother tongue stations. He hummed along to the words, occasionally a furrow forming between his brow as some driver on the road pissed him off. 

Thirty minutes into their drive – detouring through the city to see the lights that Simon still found himself fascinated by – Simon had to ask: “where are we going exactly?”

Raphael turned to face him, eyebrow raised, “wouldn’t you like to know.” Simon huffed out exasperatedly, knowing he’d get no answers tonight. After another fifteen or so minutes, Raphael pulled up to a small park overlooking a residential area, the city visible in the distance.

Simon clambered out of the car when the engine shut off, staring at the night sky and city skyline with wonderment. He felt Raphael come up behind him, an arm slipping around his waist. “Raph,” he whispered out breathily. “It’s beautiful.” Raphael hummed, pressing his lips to the back of his neck.

Twisting in his arms, Simon pushed Raphael backwards until he sat against the bonnet of the air, Simon slipping in between his legs. He fingers slipped in between his hair, just as he’d done this morning before their trip, and leant in to kiss him passionately.

Simon and Raphael, after being together for five years, knew exactly how to get the other riled up – either angrily, sexually, or, sometimes, mostly in Raphael’s case, both simultaneously – so Simon knew that by pulling his hair, and tugging on his bottom lip with his teeth, drawing blood, and then licking it up, would make Raphael turn to putty underneath him. And, because Simon was an intellectual being, Raphael did. Turn to putty, I mean.

  _Raphael’s_ hands sat low on Simon’s hips, daring him to come closer, hands slipping around and down to grab at his boyfriend’s arse, smiling around the moan he made in return. Simon’s hands then fell to his chest, pushing them apart. He didn’t move away and further though, just stared at him, and Raphael stared back. After a moment, Simon pulled himself away further with another light kiss to Raphael’s lips, and said man watched Simon curiously as he walked over to one of the trees.

Swinging from one of the branches, Simon said casually into the sky, “we should get married here, don’t you think?”

Raphael tensed against the hood of the car, eyes – as always – trained on Simon. Raphael had waited for this moment for a long time. See, the issue was, Raphael had debated about who was supposed to ask. Stereotypically, Raphael was the dominant one, especially in bed, so he always considered himself to be the one who asked – but something about the pickiness and determination and thoughtfulness of Simon made Raphael question that theory numerous times.

“What are you saying?” He pestered.

 Simon rolled his eyes, a habit he had caught from Raphael himself. He walked back over to his life partner, but kept a distance, still hidden by the shadows of the branches. “I’m _saying_ , we should get married here. As in, wear a nice suit and invite all our friends and family, say cute shit right under this tree, kiss, and then you can fuck me in your fancy car and fancier suit, and then I can ogle your bare chest and giggle to myself as you try to sleep because _what the fuck you’re so fucking attractive and I am so mediocre._ ” He paused, shrugging. “You know the drill.”

 Under any normal circumstance, Raphael would have commented on the fact that Simon had just called him mediocre, something which pissed him off immensely because he thought Simon was perfect. But right now, he was focused on something entirely different.

 “Are you asking me to marry you?”

 Simon huffed, head falling backwards as he cursed to the moon. “Yes, bloody hell. How clueless are you? You think _I’m_ thick or something, listen to—”

 Simon didn’t get to finish what he was going to say, because Raphael had pushed him to the ground, lips attached to his lips to shut him up, hands working on his jeans zipper. When he heard an almighty rip in the silence of the night, Simon pulled away.

 “For fucks sake Raphael, you know I love these!”

 Raphael scoffed – another habit, Simon had learned after six months together - “I’ll show you something you’ll love more.”

 

He was right, Simon found. He did love that position a lot more than those jeans. He loved having Santiago as his surname more, though.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> yo did u like it


End file.
